Loyalty Unspoken
by ForASecondThereWe'dWon
Summary: S2E5 SUCKED for Bughead fans, so I've written this story as a balm for our collective wound. Jughead's in with the Serpents, but there's one last step in his initiation. The task itself might be easier to deal with than the fact that completing it puts Jughead in close proximity to Betty Cooper, his now-ex-girlfriend. Rated M for the reunion we crave in our Bughead-deprived hearts.


**Author's Note:**

This is the second way I've explored the possible aftermath of S2E5. The first was in my collection _Numbering Their Days_ , chapter 7, if you're interested in reading a non-M-rated alternative. The following story was inspired jointly by the Riverdale episode and the prompt: (Plot Point) Stealing Something, from NeonDomino's Bingo Challenge.

Enjoy!

XO ForASecondThereWe'dWon

* * *

Jughead stared around at the menacing semi-circle of Serpents gathered in his living room. After coming home one day to find a pair of his leather-clad now-brethren standing over a guy they'd just beat the shit out of, today's little vignette was positively Rockwellian. Still, the easy way these guys seemed to come and go from a place Jughead thought was just his was starting to get on his nerves. That, and the fact they never took their shoes off; being in charge of his own vacuuming had made Jughead aware of muddy soles in a way he'd never been before. All things considered, this was shaping up to be a pretty average visit from the Serpents: they came without invitation, they loitered without encouragement, and they doled out assignments Jughead had never signed up for.

"Haven't I done enough?" he asked from his couch. Having them standing looking down at him reminded Jughead of being interrogated at the police station, but he figured he might as well be comfortable while they made his life hell. "If I'd known letting you guys kick the crap out of me wouldn't count for much, I'm not sure I would've submitted so willingly," he joked dryly. Apparently, it wasn't Sweet Pea's brand of humour.

"You flaking out on us, Jones?" Sweet Pea demanded. The guy had dark eyes that were psychopath-intense and Jughead felt his palms start to moisten. "You know, the punishment won't be some North Side bullshit like banning you from sitting with us at lunch."

"Trust me," Jughead answered, holding out his palms, "I got the message when I had to put my hand in a snake enclosure."

"So this is easy compared to that," Sweet Pea said with a grin. Not a happy grin either. "You just gotta steal something."

"I don't get it. I thought my initiation was done." Jughead lowered his hands, scratching absently at the bandage covering his still-fresh snakebite.

"Oh, you proved yourself to us," Sweet Pea assured him, looking like a proud dad―like maybe the Zodiac Killer's dad, "but now you need to prove it out in the world." He gestured broadly, like Vanna White had better hang onto her job with both hands.

"Man, the Serpents should start a fraternity." Jughead sighed, hanging his head. Sweet Pea interpreted this as a sign of defeat.

"You'll do it?" he inquired, shuffling forward and fouling more carpet.

After a pause, Jughead looked up.

"What am I supposed to steal?" He was hoping for something small and inconsequential, but that wasn't really the Serpent's style.

"It's not so much the item as the target," said Sweet Pea mysteriously. It was a struggle for Jughead not to roll his eyes.

"Well that sounds ominous."

Sweet Pea shrugged.

"Nah, you'll like this, Jones. It's your old pal Andrews." Jughead felt his own expression sink into his face like a foot in wet cement, even while the tattooed Danny Zuko lookalikes surrounding him smirked to each other. "Or maybe not such a pal since your last conversation." Sweet Pea's eyebrows flicked up mockingly and Jughead wanted to break his nose. He wondered if there was ever a Serpent membership renewal―like Costco―where you had to do the initiation all over again and, if so, when Sweet Pea's turn might be coming up.

"You picked up on that, huh?" Jughead grit out. His hands closed to fists in his lap and the sharp poke of his nails into his palms made him suddenly, startlingly, think of Betty. His insides dropped like he'd been pushed off a cliff.

"Jughead…" Toni started, stepping forward to touch his arm lightly. He glanced at her and she backed right off. Nothing had been resolved between them since the solitary post-beating kiss, mainly because Jughead was still trying to figure out how you turn down a badass babe in a legacy gang you'd just joined. She was gorgeous, she was into cold cases, and some days she was even wrapped in leather, but Toni just wasn't Betty. If only the Serpents had known that whatever they did to his body would never be anywhere near as bad as the mark his ex-girlfriend had left on his heart.

"Yeah," Jughead said, looking back at Sweet Pea, "my days of making 'Go Archie Go' posters to hold up at his football games are behind me, but if you want me to steal from him," he paused, scratching his cheek, "that means breaking into his house."

"Yep," Sweet Pea confirmed. Jughead's statement had been more for the purpose of working through the idea aloud, but hey, if Sweet Pea wanted to make himself feel included, good for him.

"I can't do that. Fred Andrews really stepped up for me before. They took me in like I was family." Jughead gave Sweet Pea an unwavering stare.

"Then what're you doing at Jingle Jangle High with us?" Sweet Pea laughed and the others joined in, with the exception of Toni whose sympathy, to be honest, Jughead was over. "You get a kick out of walking through metal detectors every day? We're your family now, Jones." He came close and gripped Jughead painfully between his shoulder and neck. Real lovey-dovey, grab-the-camcorder stuff. "Let's see where your loyalty lies."

"Another trial by fire then, huh?" Jughead held Sweet Pea's gaze, but those eyes were like recurring childhood nightmares, accidentally touching something unidentifiable stuck to the underside of your desk, and the incomprehensible abyss of a black hole all rolled into one. Jughead broke first. "Ok, what am I taking?"

"Bring us the gun that broke up our street battle with the Bulldogs," Sweet Pea decreed like a goddamn Roman Emperor.

"The _gun_?" Jughead asked incredulously, eyes widening. "Come on, Sweet Pea. I can't be walking around the North Side with a gun. That's suspicious behaviour in the eyes of a cop even without a serial killer on the loose."

"So don't get caught," Sweet Pea suggested, crossing his arms. Jughead raised an eyebrow.

"My loyalty isn't going to mean much when I'm handcuffed in the back of a squad car."

Again, they stared each other down. This time, Sweet Pea looked away.

"Ok, fine," he said. "Maybe you're right."

He turned away from Jughead and the others automatically closed in around him. Jughead almost expected Sweet Pea to pop back out wearing an entirely different outfit, like the gang was pulling off a little Broadway trick instead of deciding his potentially doomed future. Sweet Pea shouldered out of the group towards Jughead. Same clothes. Disappointing.

"His jacket then." Jughead was confused for a split-second, his imagination tangled up while his reasoning came stumbling through the snarl. "Andrews' varsity jacket," Sweet Pea explained.

Jughead rubbed his forehead, pushing under his thick hair and the edge of his hat. It was getting long―the hair, that was. Why did hair always decide it needed a cut at the most inopportune times?

"Fine. His jacket," Jughead agreed. "It's been awhile since I spent the day with Archie, but I think I still know his schedule. He and his dad should both be out of the house on Thurs―"

"Tonight, Jones."

Sweet Pea headed towards the door, the rest of the Serpents trailing him in a sloppy line. Looked like this point wasn't up for debate. Jughead rose, folding his arms as Sweet Pea let the trailer door bang open and cold air whooshed in. He followed the guys, watching them alternately stomp down the steps and vault over the crooked wooden railing, spreading into the shadows. Toni hung back and Jughead didn't know what to say to her, where to even start. She started back towards him, going in for a kiss or a hug or something, but Jughead kept his arms crossed and Toni stopped, bobbing her head in an awkward nod like 'so this is how it's gonna be.'

"Good luck, Jughead," she offered stiltedly.

"Thanks." It felt too brief, but he really had nothing. Toni took off in a hurry and Jughead shut the door, his mind already on the North Side and the blonde heartbreaker who lived right across the street from the target he'd just been given.

* * *

Betty knew her parents' impromptu 'date night' was just an excuse for them to keep away from the daughter who'd plunged the family into scandal by publishing that article about her mother, but she was still thankful for their outing when her shrill scream rang through the empty house. It didn't make sense to feel mortal panic and hope that no one was coming to help, but right after Betty shrieked, she realized the shadowy figure outside her bedroom window wasn't the Black Hood. It was Jughead. And it wasn't a hood, just his trademark hat. Betty exhaled slowly to calm herself. If there was anything that might have made Alice Cooper even angrier at her, she'd bet it was rushing into her daughter's room to see a newly minted Serpent climbing through the window.

As she approached the window in her dark room, Betty wasn't exactly ecstatic herself. Although she'd never been through a breakup before, wanting your ex to see you looking awesome was a no-brainer. Betty was certain she looked just the opposite. Between volunteering Nick St. Clair's name for the Black Hood's hit list and the subsequent realization that she couldn't call Jughead because they weren't together anymore, the stress of the evening had wrung tears out of Betty like she was a perpetually wet towel. The comparison had sent her stumbling for the shower with red-rimmed eyes, where Betty struggled to feel like she didn't have a manhole cover crushing her chest, every breath a challenge as she confronted her guilt and how much she was missing Jughead. True, she looked better since emerging from the hot water and steam, but she hadn't even had a chance to get dressed yet, snuggled up in a fluffy white bathrobe.

She clicked the light on at her bedside table and raised the window on a temporarily blinded, blinking Jughead Jones. Good, now he was as startled as she was. Jughead paused on the ladder, trying to give Betty some kind of meaningful look, but it was too cold for that and she silently gestured him inside. This was beyond weird, not to mention another sucker punch to her emotions, yet she was pretty sure that leaving him to freeze against the side of her house wouldn't make her feel better. He stepped through and straightened up, closing the window before she could. Betty clenched the neck of her robe together, stepping back when cold air came creeping over her bare feet.

"Hey there, Beatrice," he said softly, locking eyes with her. His handsome face was in rough shape, the usual purple smudges under his eyes joined by bruises of assorted hues on his cheeks and jaw. Betty wanted to drop to her soft carpet and cry. Hearing his voice just added another dimension to her pain.

"I don't… who?" Betty's voice straggled weakly out of her as Jughead's greeting sank in. Even once she could stop staring at his face and think about his words, they didn't mean much to her.

" _Much Ado About Nothing_. Beatrice and Benedick." His expression spoke of embarrassed regret. "Thought I'd go for one of Shakespeare's more successful couples."

"No more _Romeo and Juliet_." Betty had meant it to be a question, but it fell heavily from her tongue.

"Yeah, things didn't work out so well for them." He didn't move towards her, making himself at home like he used to do, and Betty didn't welcome him in.

"Not for us either," she said. There was a sad pause that felt like waking up. Betty remembered she was standing in her bedroom with her ex-boyfriend, and that there was something fundamentally _not right_ about that. Who was supposed to be mad? Her, because he'd showed up here? Him, because she was the one who'd broken it off? Months of optimistically assuming she'd be with Jughead forever had left Betty unprepared for this reality.

"You could have called," she finally said, burying her hands in her deep cozy pockets.

"I did," he assured her, brow scrunching.

Betty reached for her phone, flipped screen-down on her bedside table. A handful of missed calls. All from Jughead.

"Oh. My phone's on silent. I've been meaning to get a new ringtone." As she was setting her phone back down, Jughead began to sing her old ringtone, the one Betty now associated with midnight calls from a serial killer, and it clattered onto the tabletop as she flinched.

"Stop! Please," she added, opening eyes that had closed in an automatic reaction of fear.

"Betty, what _happened_? What's going on?" Jughead stepped close to Betty and hooked his fingers securely through hers. She shook her head dejectedly, trying to pull her hand away, but he hung on―better than he'd hung onto their relationship, from what Archie had reported to Betty after he'd gone to break things off on her behalf. She wanted to pummel Jughead's chest like Cheryl had done after F.P.'s arrest, to make him understand how much she was hurting. But she couldn't explain. She shouldn't even hint at the connection between her and the Black Hood. Jughead's fingers tightened around her hand and Betty remembered that he shouldn't even have been there, not just in her room, but anywhere near her. If the Black Hood found out…

"You have to go," she whispered frantically, shoving lightly against his chest. He was wearing his dad's leather jacket, she noticed.

"No," he replied. "I'm staying, at least until you look me in the eye and tell me you really don't want to see me anymore. I believed Archie once, but it still feels like a mistake."

To Betty's horror, rather than heading for the window, Jughead kicked his shoes off.

"Juggy, I really need you to go. Now," she insisted, eyes pleading along with her words as she stared up at him.

"Yeah, but I don't think you _want_ me to." Jughead tentatively touched the ends of her hair, dry from being tied back while she showered, then sunk his fingers in deeper, cradling the back of her neck. "You're afraid, I can see that! Just tell me what's going on, Betty! _Tell me_ so that I can show you it's not as bad as you think, or if it is, that I'll face it with you."

He was really putting his heart on his sleeve, Betty could have felt it even if she wasn't already seeing it in his eyes. God, it was so much worse that he thought he could fix it, and she'd been thinking that nothing could be worse than Jughead just giving up on them after a few words from Archie.

"I can't," Betty said, giving in and wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her face into his chest, pushing the jacket aside so her cheek touched his familiar dark grey t-shirt instead. It would only be for a second. She'd just breathe for a second. Finally, it felt like she was catching her breath. His chin came down gently on the top of her head.

"And I can't tell you anything either," Jughead said quietly.

"So what's the point?" she mumbled against his shirt, her eyes getting damp. She squeezed his back a little harder, the leather cold and slippery under her hands. Betty nudged her feet alongside his, getting as close as she could before she'd have to pull away.

"That I love you," he whispered. "That's always been the point." Betty's breath seemed to snag in the air like a wool sweater on Velcro. Her heart pounded, muffled under the plush layer of her bathrobe. It was like the first time again, except now she know exactly what was coming. Betty drew back just enough, eyes lowered as she convinced herself to act, then raised her eyes to his lips. Jughead got the idea, lowering his head quickly to kiss her.

Betty moaned into the kiss, unsure whether she was falling or flying, but knowing for certain that she needed him to stay. He held her face to his, deepening the kiss and hugging her to him, one-armed, so fiercely that he raised her up on her toes for a moment. Just when she thought it was getting too dreamy, Jughead's hand slid down to grab her ass, pulling her tight against his erection. Not quite your standard fairy tale kiss. Betty broke it off, gasping, but clung to the lapels of his jacket so she couldn't stray too far.

"Then we just agree that we can't tell each other anything. Not yet. Because it's just…" she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, then acceptance, "…better if we don't know. Safer." She opened them, staring at Jughead's face and willing him not to think she was a lunatic who pushed him away and pulled him back and insisted on secrets.

"I'll agree," he said, smoothing her hair back, "but only if we can be together for a little while. I did come all the way out here." The shyest smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Wooing me with pragmatism, huh?" Betty teased, her own smile widening.

"If it'd work on anyone, it'd be you."

"Any other tricks you think I'd respond to?" She kept her expression open as she asked, but broke into a more mischievous grin when Jughead raised an eyebrow. He pulled her torso flush against his, passing his lips across her ear so she shivered in his arms.

"Betty Cooper," he marvelled, voice low, "My, my. I think we'd better not waste this opportunity."

"Since you did come all this way," she echoed him, pressing her lips to his neck. He brushed his cheek along hers until her mouth was near enough to be captured by his. With great contentment, Betty unwound her arms from his waist, only to rewrap them around his neck. As he kissed her, she began slipping her hands below the collar of his jacket, stroking from his neck down the top of his spine. When her touch became persistent enough, Jughead let her go and shrugged out of the jacket, Betty's hands immediately going to his shoulders as the leather slumped to the ground. The placement of his hands was requiring a little more thought, Betty could tell. They pressed against the small of her back, fingers stretching up to sneak under the tie of her robe―not quite willing to give it the tug required to undo the loose knot holding the garment closed over Betty's stomach.

She knew she was coming up on a decision and her fears about the Black Hood came back to her. Maybe it wasn't too deplorable to hope the killer had gone after Nick. He was in a hotel, after all, and there would be staff at the desk to see the Hood come in, plenty of cameras, and guests in the other rooms on Nick's floor. The walls of his luxury suite might be thicker than an average hotel's, but definitely not thick enough to silence a gunshot, if the Hood returned to the weapon he'd favoured for most of his crimes. Nick would be… he would be fine, Betty decided. The Black Hood was well out of the way and might even get caught tonight if he went after Nick. Betty felt her body relax and leaned a little more into Jughead. His footing shifted and she felt his smirk against her lips. If the killer really was being apprehended, Betty felt that she should have no more fear. Instead, she should be celebrating.

Stretching up on her toes, Betty kissed Jughead harder, feeling the neck of her robe peel away towards her shoulder as it dragged against his chest. In response to her enthusiasm, he cupped her face in his hands, taking back control of the kiss. Heat spread easily through Betty's body like uncontainable smoke. Jughead's hands caressed down the sides of her neck, then outwards, seeking her shoulders. On one side, the path was clear, and his palm encountered nothing but skin all the way across and over the curve to the top of her arm. Jughead drew back, his eyes diving to her exposed skin as Betty waited, dropping her hands to raise the already askew hem of his dark t-shirt. Their eyes met and Betty halted, nervous, but Jughead took her hand, replaced it on his abdomen under the fabric, and pulled his shirt up and off himself.

Betty's eyes went wide and she touched her other hand to his chest. He grasped her hips, guiding her carefully backwards to her bed where she sat, the split of her bathrobe parting on a diagonal to show her knee and a handful of inches up her inner thigh. Jughead's gaze lingered there as he settled himself, sliding back on the mattress and half-reclining beside her. Before she could think any more, Betty bent her legs underneath her and rose up on her knees, swinging one leg over Jughead's lap to straddle him. She reached down, popped the button of his jeans open, and let the end of her bathrobe tie trail across his abdomen. Betty unzipped him and wiggled her hand into the opening, laying her palm flat on his heated erection. Her gaze crept slowly up his body, and then it was her tongue, sweeping over his chest. Now Jughead did grab for the closure of her robe, fingers delicately unlooping the knot she'd made when she'd stepped out of the shower.

As his arms came forward, Betty noticed the unmistakable Serpent tattoo he now bore, the skin around it red and irritated. He hadn't mentioned getting it, so for tonight, Betty made herself recognize that it was one of the things they couldn't talk about. The nice thing was, she didn't mind it. The dark clothes and sullen demeanor had made Jughead enough of a bad boy for her when their attraction began, but fleshing out the image with a motorcycle and a tattoo did something for her sex drive that Betty couldn't account for with higher logic. She knew she'd always want Jughead simply because he was, well, Jughead, yet it wasn't his perseverance, or humour, or ability to problem solve that made her grab both his hands and place them over her breasts. His palms were hot, even through the robe.

Betty clamped her knees around the outside of his hips, scooting up on his lap. Jughead fought, smiling, not to be forced flat on his back. His hands snuck under the fluffy folded edges of her robe―one still on her shoulder, the other off―and eased the material back, baring her chest. One more push to spread it open and she'd be exposed from head to hip, but Betty figured he must have been leaving that step to her. So she took it, shuddering hard just once from the emotional intensity of making herself so vulnerable. Jughead's gaze roamed her body hungrily, gripping the robe on either side of her waist. Betty reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, pushing his hat off, feeling a little lightheaded. With her on his lap, Jughead shuffled forward until he could turn her lamp off, then she felt his hands on her.

She gasped when he held the back of her thighs and laid her on her back, feeling past her to find the edge of her blankets and pulling them down. Betty shifted into the uncovered area. Her robe slid up behind her legs, across the back of her knees, and she stopped Jughead from climbing on top of her long enough to remove the robe and shove it over the side of the bed. There wasn't much light now, just what managed to reach them between the neighbour's porch light and the light downstairs in the Cooper's kitchen that Betty's parents had insisted be left on for them. Outside Betty's window, the sky was a deep foggy blue, though she didn't notice it because now Jughead was pushing not just his jeans down, but his boxers as well. When he moved in close to her, lowering his weight down on hers until only his elbows held him up, Betty stroked down his calves with her feet and realized that even his socks had been removed.

They looked at each other―stared, really, since the only way to take in anything of other person's appearance in this low light was to open their eyes wide and concentrate. Jughead shifted and Betty felt his stiffened dick against her. She slid her hand down his chest as Jughead closed his eyes, seeming to focus intently on the sensation. When she smoothed tentative fingers along his erection, Betty panted out a breath; being so aroused just from touching someone else shocked her, though of course, this wasn't just anybody. She felt over the head of him and her own body responded again, eagerly contracting the muscles inside her waiting to receive this part of Jughead. Her boyfriend. Maybe. They'd figure it out, she was sure. Sooner rather than later.

To cut off the yammering inside her own mind, Betty steered him to her entrance. Jughead let out a groan like she'd punched him in the gut, which, judging by the bruises she'd noticed over his torso, might actually have been a recent reality for him. With her free hand, she traced his lips, a sharp laugh bursting out of her when he kissed the tips of her fingers. When she shook, Jughead wedged his hands under her back, clinging to her like she was needed. Her heart thumped with fellow feeling for him, then her pulse echoed between her legs, demanding her attention like a defibrillator shock. He kissed her, appraisingly it seemed, quickly on the lips, then cheek, jaw, underside of jaw, _deep_ underside of jaw right by her neck, making her moan. At her noise, Jughead pushed through her fingers, seeking her wetness and warmth. Betty wrapped one arm around his back, and moved the other hand away from his cock, letting her fingers wander to his hip, curious. He pressed into her more, pulsing, stretching, and his mouth came down to cover her parted lips, his tongue stroking inside. Jughead's hips dragged shallowly against hers, the almost nonexistent angle making him grind down on her clit.

If his tongue hadn't been keeping her jaws separated, Betty thought her teeth would've chattered. As it was, her inner thighs trembled. Something had been telling her she ought to circle her legs around him, but keeping her knees bent and her legs flopped loosely apart was as much as she could do. Actually, the posture helped her stay relaxed and she willed the delicate muscles―whose flexibility Jughead was currently testing―to be as calm as the rest of her lower body.

With his hands under her back and him beginning to thrust more swiftly as her arousal slicked his path, Betty felt herself getting hotter and hotter. Jughead repositioned his arms and drove deeper inside her, lowering the normal warm-skin feeling of her back, but raising the lightning-strike feeling of every nerve that wanted to claim a piece of the orgasm she was being worked towards. Jughead felt good. He felt really, _really_ good and Betty told him so, her hips jumping to slam against his almost of their own accord. His left hand curved up the side of her ribs and slipped over her breast. Without preamble, Jughead caught her nipple between finger and thumb, tugging and twisting gently. Doing so much at once, he couldn't keep kissing her the way he had been, which was alright with Betty because suddenly, she needed the extra oxygen to pant his name, nipping the thin skin of his neck when he raised himself away from her, ploughing deep.

Betty ravenously ran her fingers over the twitching muscles of Jughead's back. Her other hand hung onto his hip, making incommunicable record of the animalistic buck of his hips. She thought she might've sucked too hard at his skin, but Jughead groaned, taking his hand from her boob to grab her ass, plunging into her firmly. It made her whole body rock and the motion quickly became automatic; she was unable to stop herself from throwing her hips against his as persistently as he was jerking into her, and then climax blinded her in the pitch dark of her bedroom. Betty's back arched in what she distantly thought might have been the most satisfying stretch of her life, pleasure making her sweat and heave and moan, none of which Jughead seemed to mind because he was squeezing his eyes shut and slurring words of affection and eroticism as he came too. He hung onto her hard and when he opened his eyes he just looked so… like himself, despite their time apart and the wider void between them that had nothing to do with north and south. Betty took his face in her hands and kissed him hard, then again more sweetly. Very carefully, he pulled out of her, making her feel raw and confused, but his arms just encircled her in a way that felt incredibly permanent and he rolled them both onto their sides.

"I might've bruised your neck," Betty whispered, feeling herself blush, though neither of them would have been able to see it.

"You picked a good time to do it. No way anyone will notice with all the other marks on me."

His response was so nonchalant, but it made Betty worry. She felt protective and sad, and once she'd started there, angry and afraid as well. Bowing her head, Betty kissed Jughead's chest, letting him feel her concern in the amount of pressure she applied.

"It's ok, Betts," he said softly. Her eyes teared up and she shook her head against him. "Alright, no, it's not," Jughead agreed, running his hands up and down her back. "But maybe soon, ok?" This time she nodded. "You being silent terrifies me," he said. Betty put her hand over his heart.

"Doesn't seem like that should be very high up the list," she said, drawing back a little so she could look at his face.

"It is though," he assured her. His black hair, even blacker now that everything else had dimmed, was ruffled and Betty started taming it with her fingers. "It's right at the top. Us not talking is what led to you sending Archie as your envoy in the first place, and this breakup has been the worst thing I've ever experienced."

Jughead exhaled deeply, moving Betty's body with his.

"The worst?"

"The worst."

"But we can't just go back―"

"I know," he sighed. "Tonight is not for talking, but I needed this too."

Thrown off, Betty thought he meant sex and felt briefly affronted until Jughead's arms tightened around her and he kissed her soundly. They lay still for quite some time and with him there, perfect silence didn't seem so bad. Anything she had to deal with didn't seem so bad with him there.

Eventually he got up and started pulling his clothes back on. Betty didn't bother getting dressed, figuring that the emotional release of the evening was going to surprise her as soon as he left and she'd need to climb back in the shower just to make her feel real to herself. This time, though, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

"We have a very atypical relationship," Jughead remarked as he stepped into his shoes. Betty laughed strangely, her chest already feeling tight as she anticipated missing him. "I can't even tell if we really did break up and if we did, are we still broken up?" He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"I have to disagree, if only to convince myself that you were so heartbroken over me that you ran out and got an impulse tattoo."

Light hit his face as he glanced at his arm, now covered by shirt and jacket. Jughead smirked.

"Well, part of that's true."

"Which part?" she asked playfully, rolling onto her stomach. The corners of Jughead's mouth turned down. "Oh," Betty said, realizing he was referring to the heartbreak. "Me too."

Jughead reached out to hold her hand for a moment, then dropped it and crossed to the window.

"You can go out the door, you know," Betty suggested.

"Yeah, but this is tradition." He hauled the window opened and she pulled her blankets snug around her shoulders. Jughead had one foot out on the ladder when he looked back at her. "Uh, if Archie's pissed off about something tomorrow, you know nothing about it."

Betty's forehead creased in perplexity.

"Juggy, I _do_ know nothing about it."

He grinned at her and slipped out, pulling the window shut, although she could have done it herself. Betty was tempted to get up and follow Jughead with her eyes, as if keeping an eye on him could shelter him from any threat that might be on the horizon. Instead, she twisted herself around in the blankets until she was as warm as she'd be able to get without him. Betty breathed in his smell on her pillow, letting her heartrate slow. When she finally persuaded herself to get up and take that shower, she tossed the covers off and encountered something with her fingers. Betty clicked her light on. His hat. He'd left her his hat. She smiled.


End file.
